


Emily in the middle, rolling her eyes.

by fictorium



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015), The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Emily has seen all this before, F/F, Femslash, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Placeholder relationships, and she knows better, but she has some fun first, love the one you're with, stepping aside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 05:58:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6411640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictorium/pseuds/fictorium





	Emily in the middle, rolling her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [streepytime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/streepytime/gifts).



We can largely blame @streepytime for this one.

_But one voice got through, caught her up by surprise_   
_It said, “Don’t hold us back we’re the story you tell,”_   
_And no sooner than spoken, a spell had been broken_

**Dar Williams & Joan Baez - You’re Aging Well**

* * *

 

 

Emily Charlton has had what some might call a phenomenal decade. She would never presume to use those actual words, because while she might have embraced many things about this side of the pond, anything more than mild self-deprecation still leaves her feeling faintly nauseated.

Runway has been good to her, that much is certainly true. After two years in Paris she returned to take over Nigel’s role, and as Miranda finally edges towards the dreaded r-word, Emily has been a de facto Editor-in-Chief for almost two years now.

It makes sense, in the days of Elias Clarke finally jettisoning most of its titles and slashing savagely at the books still turning a profit, that Cat Grant would finally make a move. National City is honestly the kind of West Coast hellhole that has Emily reaching for the factor 60 on a compulsive basis. Serena would have enjoyed the year-round sunshine, but their relationship hadn’t survived Emily’s hours as almost the new Miranda, and while they had parted on the best of terms on her 37th birthday, it made a fresh start more appealing than it might otherwise have been.

Which is the reason why, at eight on a Monday morning in March, Emily finds herself sitting at a division heads’ meeting chaired by Cat Grant herself. Others around her quail in the presence of the Queen of All Media, but Emily is made of sterner stuff these days. She accepts the glowing introduction with a stiff nod, makes a few salient points about a shift in editorial tone and a new advertising policy, and before long the weekly session has come to an end.

“Excuse me?” There’s a leggy blonde at Emily’s shoulder as she leaves the table. There’s something of a younger Serena about her, and the thought makes Emily smile fondly despite herself. So much for cultivating an ice queen image right off the bat.

“Yes?” She snaps, because the accent still has its uses, even though the vowels are softened these days, the letter ‘t’ almost non-existent.

“Miss Grant wanted to invite you to lunch,” the girl explains, fiddling with the black-framed glasses that take up a little too much of her face. She’d do better with something lighter from Tom Ford’s new collection. If she proves to be useful, Emily will have her assistant send up a few pairs. “I’m Kara, by the way. You’ll probably be hearing from me a lot.”

“Cat’s assistant?” Emily files the information as swiftly as if Kara had been a dignitary in a binder. Some skills have never left her. “I suppose you must be a very handy person to know.” These days she can be kind to other assistants, though rarely her own. Not everyone has to carry scars from the first step on the ladder. “I’m not big on lunch, is there any wiggle room?”

“I shouldn’t really be saying this,” Kara confides, leaning in just a little. God, she’s wearing Clinique’s ‘Happy’. Emily hasn’t bumped into anyone wearing that since Andrea Sachs. She had moved on to Chanel when she showed up on Miranda’s arm to Emily’s leaving do. “But lunch really means a couple of martinis and picking at something she never actually finishes. Does that sound more doable?”

“It does,” Emily confirms, patting the girl on the forearm quite in spite of herself. “Aren’t you good?”

And oh, Kara blushes. Isn’t that an interesting little development?

“I try,” she mutters, and Emily wishes she didn’t have an entire new magazine staff to terrorize. Finally a downside to being the new editor-in-chief of CatCo magazine.

“Well I hope you’ll tag along for lunch,” Emily lays on the charm as she walks away, putting a sway in her hips that she'd almost forgotten she could deploy. National City might not be without its charms after all.

***

The morning passes in a flurry of meetings and a few firings to set the tone. Emily barely notices the time pass but then it’s almost one and there’s a text about the car waiting downstairs. She saves the number as ‘Kara’ and wonders when she’ll get a surname to go with it. With any luck Cat might be too busy for lunch, and Emily can get right on with lining up her first sunshine conquest.

The not-quite-a-limo has facing seats in back, so Emily takes the corner adjacent to Cat, and Kara sits opposite with those lovely legs on display beneath a tiny tartan kilt. It’s about five seasons out of date, and clearly mass-produced, but Emily can work with a blank canvas. She really must call Andrea one of these days.

“How’s Miranda?” Cat asks as they pull off into traffic. “Last I heard from her was a very detailed plan to eviscerate me for stealing her best people.”

Emily snorts at that, out of habit. A moment later the compliment actually lands, and she feels that familiar fizz in the back of her mind that it’s all been worth it, that Miranda had come to see Emily as so much more than the least-worst monkey at a typewriter.

“She seemed peaceful enough at my party,” Emily confides. “I think your innards are probably safe now. She’s finally taking that ‘sabbatical’, did you hear?”

“Andy will be thrilled,” Cat says, and there’s a flicker of a glance towards Kara. Perhaps Cat is worried Emily assumes all powerful women get seduced by their bright-eyed staff. “She’s been nagging Miranda for a vacation since the twins went off to college.”

“I would never walk out on Miranda,” Emily clarifies, tipping her sunglasses down. Cat removes hers altogether. Kara watches them with bated breath, like the crowd at Wimbledon waiting for the next serve. “In case you thought me disloyal, but hired me anyway. Runway is dying, and I left with her blessing.”

“I value loyalty,” Cat says, nodding in approval. “Keira, did you tell the driver to divert via Central City? It should not take this long to get tapas.”

“I’ll just check, Ms Grant,” Kara says, sunny smile never faltering. By the time she slides the privacy screen back, the car is already rolling to a stop at their restaurant. Emily shoots a sympathetic glance and earns another blush. This is going to be sport, she can just tell.

***

Cat is called away after her first martini, and Emily is a little deflated. The woman is everything the interview process suggested, but far less scathing when talking about things she truly cares about. Her son is clearly her pride and joy, and Emily makes a mental note to find out more about Carter Grant. A trump card in her back pocket won’t hurt during the rough sailing of the first few months.

“Why does she call you Keira?” Emily asks as she swirls her sparkling water.

“At first she just didn’t know,” Kara admits. “Then I’m pretty sure she kept doing it to get me angry. But... I don’t really get angry. So here we are.”

“Something like that happened to me as an assistant,” Emily confides. “Then, when things got better, she would use my name for everyone else. I’m told that’s how you know you’ve made it.”

“I just want to be helpful,” Kara answers, sipping at some virgin cocktail that clearly amuses her, with its elaborate garnishes. “Your accent is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever heard,” she adds, holding back a giggle. “I’m sorry, I don’t think that’s appropriate, is it?”

“I don’t mind,” Emily admits. “This restaurant, it’s part of a hotel, isn’t it?”

Kara nods. “Do you not have anywhere to live yet? I can sort that out in five minutes, Ms Charlton.”

“It’s Emily,” she insists. “And if Cat’s dealing with her personal emergency, you could be out of the office a little longer. Couldn’t you, Kara?”

“I, uh... “ Kara looks genuinely confused. Corrupting the innocent should not be this much fun, but the girl has a wandering eye and can’t hide her reactions to attractive women for toffee. “I’m not really one for sneaking out of work?”

Well, there’s an interesting story behind that lie. Emily lets it go.

“I’m going to book a room for the rest of the day,” she announces, reckless and lonely and wondering if National City has already sent her completely around the bend. “I’ll text the room number. If you don’t show up within ten minutes, we’ll pretend this conversation never happened.”

Kara waits for Emily to stand up, to walk past her back towards the exit that takes her into the main hotel. Brushing the sleeve of Emily’s blazer, Kara barely whispers her question.

“And if I show up?”

“Well,” Emily bends low to murmur her response against Kara’s ear. “I think we could have rather a lot of fun.”

***

“Your hair,” Kara gasps afterwards, her fingers still tangled in it. “It’s such an amazing shade of red.”

“That’s your feedback?” Emily wipes the faint residue from her neck, and then from her thigh. “If that really was your first time with a woman, you’re going to have to work on the pillow talk.”

“I think I’m ready for my second time,” Kara is laughing around the words as she rolls on top of Emily, pinning her confidently against the sheets. “I don’t know why I waited so long.”

“We’re all just waiting for a powerful older woman to come along and sweep us off our feet, Kara,” Emily imparts the wisdom with mock severity. “I’m just glad I got in there before Cat decided to take you off the market.”

“Wh-what?” Kara splutters. “That is... Ms Grant would never... she doesn’t even. I mean. Why would you even...?”

“Shush,” Emily pulls her back down for a silencing kiss. “Now I really don’t have all afternoon, so why don’t we have that second round in the shower, hmm?”

Kara sighs happily into another kiss, and Emily rolls them up and off the bed.

***

They get away with it for a surprisingly long time.

Emily working on a different floor of the building affords certain opportunities, and there are secret rooms Kara knows of, where she pulls the plastic sheeting from the couch and then pulls Emily’s lace thongs down her legs. The soundproofing throughout the CatCo building is, mercifully, comprehensive and effective.

There’s a certain self-preservation in wooing gorgeous women, and Emily doesn’t mention Cat again. Kara occasionally complains about work, about people who Emily can’t keep track of besides James Olsen, the best art director she’s worked with. Kara pushes for dates, for outings that she insists are just to get Emily to fall for the city she now calls home. Emily fears she might fall for something much more dangerous instead.

The Saturday she finally relents and lets Kara drag her around some Noho galleries that make Emily long for New York, they run into Cat and her boy. While Emily is contemplating a boutique wedged between two galleries, Kara goes rigid at her side. She should have known better than to wonder why. The son - Carter, she reminds herself - rushes to hug Kara. They don’t talk other than basic hellos, but Cat watches the embrace with a softness Emily has yet to see on her.

“I told Carter about that gallery you mentioned,” Cat explains, without even acknowledging Emily. “And of course he had to see it for himself.”

“The one with the laser dinosaurs?” Kara squeals. “Isn’t it the coolest thing you have ever seen?”

Carter starts rattling off his favorite things about it, and Kara listens in rapt attention. She looks fantastic, in a McQueen sundress that Emily pretended to have been given in the wrong size. Cat obviously recognizes the wardrobe upgrade, and only then does she turn her attention to Emily.

“I see you’ve recruited Kara as a tour guide,” she comments, arch again. “I should warn you, she’s quite evangelical on National City being the best place on earth. She’s more protective of it than Supergirl.”

A meaningful glance, and Kara’s shoulders tense although her attention never leaves Kara.

“We actually have brunch reservations,” Emily responds, and it’s irresponsible given the situation, but she grips Kara’s elbow and pulls her closer. There’s no reservation and Kara is insisting they have pancakes at some place that queues down the block, but suddenly Emily has never wanted anything more. “Carter, it was lovely to finally meet you. Kara’s told me great things about you.”

Kara has, because her favourite topics are Cat Grant and everyone related to her. Emily pulls out the obvious facts she’s been ignoring, and assembles them as quickly as any layout. Her thesis is confirmed when Kara presses a flustered kiss to Emily’s cheek, as though telling her she’d returned from Grant-land, ready to focus on Emily again. Cat’s glare on them is hotter than anything Supergirl’s lasers have ever achieved.

Emily sets a brisk pace as they walk down the street. She can almost hear Kara’s sinews straining with the effort of not turning around to wave, to take one more lingering look.

How, just how the bloody hell has Emily managed to walk into another Pandora’s box of suppressed lesbian longing? It’s a strange gift, and one she wishes she did not possess. The eye-fucking of Andrea and Miranda had been one thing, but this felt a lot like Cat Grant had stormed into Emily’s life and hand-picked the one thing outside of work that Emily actually enjoyed.

The sensible thing would be to end it over brunch. The self-respecting thing would be to return to her half-bare apartment alone.

Instead, Emily lets Kara take her to the gloriously millennial loft she’s so damn proud of, and lets Kara fuck out her frustrations over Cat. Emily’s body responds the same whether it’s about her or not. It’s the best sex they’ve had to date, and Emily is so sated by the end she wonders if she’ll ever get out of the damn bed. She watches the frown tug at Kara’s eyebrows and pretends she didn’t.

“I hope Cat doesn’t give you a hard time about this,” Emily says when she dresses to leave. She has a premiere, and Kara isn’t who she takes to things like that. She never will be, and now it’s just a matter of time until the brunches and the gallery dates stop too.

“I’m sure she’ll think we’re just friends,” Kara dismisses Emily’s concerns with a wave of her hand. Emily bites her lip, because it’s the exact gesture Cat dismissed their taskforce meeting with on Friday.

***

Emily takes pity on them, once Cat’s jealousy starts manifesting in their collective work day. Kara’s hours, never easy, are extended to a point where she barely gets enough sleep. Emily for her part is left to her own devices on the magazine floor, the number of pointless meetings on the executive floor whittled down to almost nothing.

Cat, for her part, remains perfectly civil. There’s the odd pointed remark when a discussion of harassment comes up in a Senior Management Quarterly, but for the most part Cat acts as though no Saturday coincidence ever happened.

“You know,” Emily opens, when she engineers an excuse to bring a particularly daring cover change to Cat’s office. It’ll be the biggest revamp since the magazine went into print 15 years ago. It’s going to make it bigger than Runway at its post-digital height, Emily’s already sure of that. With the flush of success in her veins, she can afford this generosity. “She’s clearly quite gone on you, Cat.”

“What?” Cat snaps, not looking up from her keyboard. “Is that... damn.” She reaches for the mockups, touching them with an editor’s reverence. “Emily, this is beyond even what I hoped.”

“I’m well aware.” Emily has a black belt in snippy, and she won’t be deterred. “Much like Kara Danvers. Someone you should stop working into the ground and simply ask out.”

“I believe her dance card is full,” Cat stares her down. Emily doesn’t flinch. “And I don’t need to be handed her, like some kind of... bisexual baton.”

“I’m bowing out,” Emily clarifies. “An interval will be expected. I’ve seen this before, and I know there are forces at work here that I’m a fool to get in between. Had I realized earlier, it might never have happened.”

“Did you even bother to break up with her yet?” Cat looks a little too eager to sell her professed disinterest. “Kara deserves better treatment than the two of us haggling over her.”

“So you do know her name,” Emily seizes on it. “You should start by using it.”

“Will this affect your work here?” Cat demands, as Emily stands to leave. Kara is coming back with coffee, and it’s as good a time as any to pull her aside for a chat that Emily suspects will not be the greatest heartbreak of Kara’s young life.

“Why should it?” Emily fires back. “You’ve seen what I’m about to do. CatCo is ready for its next big success. I’m sure the dating pool will find room for me.”

Cat nods, one finger raised to her lips in contemplation. The gesture is so reminiscent of Miranda that for a moment Emily wonders if she’s travelled in time. There are aliens now, what else is possible? Emily takes her leave, in case a “that’s all” should come next.

“Kara,” she says kindly, watching the girl fuss over a simple latte. Always back before someone has to speculate if she’s died, or something. “Come see me for a chat, when you can?”

“Everything okay?” Kara asks.

“I suspect it will be quite soon, yes,” Emily replies. “I’ll be in my office when you’re done.”

***

It’s three months before anyone catches wind, and Emily called in two favors to give them that long. It’s the end of her involvement though, when the gossip site CatCo runs as a more ethical version of TMZ, runs the first paparazzi spread. They look happy, much more so than they allow themselves to be around the office. Kara’s one month into her new position in the news division, and that’s probably just enough of an interval to avoid full-blown scandal.

Miranda, of all people, reaches out.

“Emily,” she drawls, and there’s chattering from Andrea in the background that Emily ignores out of habit. “Are you doing something deliberate to cause all these relationships?”

“Gossip, Miranda?” Emily accuses. “I think your wife is the one who really wants the sordid details.”

“We’re both intrigued,” Miranda confesses. “You can tell us over dinner on Saturday.”

“You’re in town?”

“We will be.”

“I’ll make arrangements,” Emily answers, because old habits die hard. “I’ve found some places that even you might find acceptable.”

“Hey Em,” Andy takes the phone. “Why is it everywhere you go, some amazing relationship happens. Don’t you ever want to use that good luck on yourself? I just saw Serena for lunch on Friday, and...”

Emily lets the babble overtake her. She’s fine, and she’ll continue to be fine. She closes her browser, and vows not to look when the next round is released. There’s no need for distractions, and she hums in acknowledgment of whatever Andrea is rambling about. The first Book of the new CatCo sits proudly on her desk, and Emily has a blind date in just six short hours.

It is, in fact, going to be another phenomenal decade. If they’re lucky, it will be for Kara and Cat Grant, too.


End file.
